StripTease: The Strip Club

There were big stakes riding on this past weekend after my Thursday night ordeal. Had the weekend been terrible, I would have compulsively sworn-off going out and taken up something more low-key, such as knitting.

After a couple of weeks of absence, I went down to Washington D.C. hoping that the nation’s capital can save me from a self-imposed lifetime of knitting during my weekends. I’ve obviously been out in DC before and it really is hit-or-miss, depending on the situation.

Long story short, I won’t be knitting (not yet at least). A great Friday night (shout out to the NOVA/BLACKSBURG crew) was followed up with a better (well, depending on how you define ‘better’) Saturday night (shout out to Baltimore), which in turn was followed by a long sleep-in on Sunday (shout out to DC again). Sundays were made for sleep, at least for those of us who are content with hell and don’t wish to go and get ‘saved’.

The title of the post was inspired by the events that took place in Baltimore, MD. Contrary to what it suggests, there were no strippers, poles or paradise rooms (I initially wanted to make my three P’s reference … Poles, Paradise/Private rooms and instead of the third P, I chose to refer to it as “strippers” because it’s Monday).

There was however, a place that I have now re-named “The Strip Club.” The reason is because this place is the narrowest place I’ve ever seen. It’s basically a strip/ aisle way connecting an entrance and an exit. There is a bar on one side of the aisle way, and some tables on the other side. The place was great.

The tease is that there’s obviously nowhere to dance but the music was hot. One song after the other was stellar and I’ve never seen so many people just dance in one spot or dance in their seats. Oh, and they close at 1 a.m. If it weren’t for those two minor inconveniences, this place would get a ‘10’ … it’s going to have to settle for an (impressive) 8.

In other news, Karma is doing it’s nasty on me. For the record (to the person up there) I was kidding when I said I preferred my inability to smell due to acute bronchitis to the smell outside on my street. I didn’t really mean that literally … and didn’t think you would take my sense of smell … AGAIN! Give it back already. I’ll smell anything you want me to.
I’m not about to go ahead and claim this as “I’m Sick” yet… It would struggle for believability and have to beg for credibility. Besides, there aren’t enough alarming symptoms to warrant a diagnosis from google. I’m sucking it up and headed to work.

Note: I know it’s sort of old news now, but in memoriam of Luther Vandross, I dedicated my drive’s listening to figuring out what my all-time favorite Luther Vandross song is. The answer is: Never Too Much.
Today: Glass